


He Likes Me Best

by Catchclaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Corgi, Curtain Fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas adopts a dog that Dean doesn't want. But the dog has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Likes Me Best

"His name is Timothy," Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"His name is 'doesn't live here,' Cas, because no. We're not getting a dog."

"No, we're not," Cas agreed. "Because we already have one."

"What the--!" Dean barked. "Look, he's eating your mums. You like those things, right? Now imagine the little bastard doing that inside the house. Nothing will be safe. Shoes, books, your iPod--nothing!"

Cas looked up, gave Dean a long slow blink. Skeptical.

They watched the dog hork up a couple of flowers and then roll around in the proceeds. Dean was pleased to see "Timothy," or whatever the thing was called, making a strong case for his own immediate eviction.

"He needs a home; we have a home. Therefore, he is home," Cas said finally in his "Don't make me break out the wings" voice.

"You and your logical proofs," Dean huffed. "Fine. But you're taking care of it."

He stomped up the stairs and into the house, determined to be pissed off for at least the next twelve hours. At least.

But after dinner, Cas tucked the fucking dog--"he's a corgi, Dean"--into a basket of blankets and damn if the bastard didn't sleep through the night, even through Cas' repeated attempts to fuck Dean through the boxsprings and into next week.

"Jesus," Dean panted, after attempt #3. "Cas. You gotta try and fuck up more often. This make up shit is amazing."

Cas looked down, looping the last knot over Dean's wrists and giving it an experimental tug.

"Please stop talking," he growled, kicking his hips into Dean's face. "And open your mouth."

In the morning, "Timothy" tagged along on Dean's morning run. Which Dean had to give him credit for, given the thing's little stubby legs. The two moms on the next block made him stop, cooed over the dog's soft fur, his sweet face, blah-dy fucking blah. Dean jogged in place to keep his heart rate up, thought about making a run for it and leaving the little bastard behind, but the second he twitched, "Timothy" shot to his side, summoning a chorus of "adorable!" and "sweetheart!" and "so loyal!" and that gave them both a good reason to run.

And damn if the thing didn't keep it up the whole fucking day.

Followed him into the garage, stretched out on the cement and watched him change a couple of spark plugs and give her a good wax.

Zonked out under the coffee table when Red Zone started; didn't startle when he yelled at that idiot Ed Hockalie, or when he cheered over the third Eagles fumble, or when he fell asleep during the end of the Broncos game.

When Cas made it home after six, "Timothy" was in the kitchen, parked in one of the dining room chairs while Dean swore at a meatloaf.

"So," Cas said, leaning his hip against the counter. "I see you two have reached some sort of agreement."

"Huh?" Dean said, following his gaze. "Oh, the dog. Yeah, whatever, Cas. You wanna keep him, that's fine. He'll be your dog, is all."

He wrestled the pan into the oven and stretched. "Gonna take a shower," he said, preening as Cas kissed him. "Keep an eye on the little bastard, ok? Make sure he doesn't eat anything off the counter." He raised his eyebrows. "And he's had dinner already, so don't let him con you. He knows you're the easy one."

"Mmm," Cas hummed. "As you say."

Dean squeezed his waist and headed for the stairs.

"Timothy" let him get two steps out of eyesight and then he was gone, hopped down and scurried after.

That first week, Timothy gnawed on Cas' first edition of _Ariel_ , ripped one of Dean's favorite slippers to shreds, and peed on Cas' trenchcoat. Twice.

But he slept through the night, every night, stretched out on his blankets, then his dog bed, then his fucking dog mattress, which even Cas thought was a little excessive, but whatever. Dean figured the little guy had earned it.

"You're just saying that because he likes you best," Cas huffed, shoving himself down on Dean's fingers, his face twisted and sweet.

"Can we not talk about the dog while we're fucking?" Dean managed, his breath fast against Cas' cock. "Seriously? Limits here, Cas. Gotta have limits."

After, when Dean was still shaking his way down, his hands still clutching Cas' shoulders, he said: "Wait, he likes me best? How do you--"

Cas rolled his eyes and tugged Dean's mouth to his.

In the morning, Timothy was on the bed, his head lolled against Dean's knee.

"Dean," Cas said. "How did the dog get in here?"

Dean grinned, didn't bother to open his eyes. "His name is Timothy," he said. "And I let him in."

**Author's Note:**

> For curtainsforyou, who requested Destiel with a corgi. My way of saying thanks.


End file.
